


A Helping Hand

by grimcognito



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-24 23:32:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimcognito/pseuds/grimcognito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rung needs some help putting his office back to order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fulcrumisthebomb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fulcrumisthebomb/gifts).



> This fandom needs more Fort Max/Rung. 
> 
> Standard Discalimers Apply. I do not own Transformers, this is a work of fiction that is not made for profit, just for fun.

Rung took a long look at his office and sighed. Ruined. Again. Apprently someone had let Whirl take over the duty of blasting meteor debris that might hit the ship. Whirl, with his lack of key asteroid-shooting factors, like having two functioning optics to aim with. 

Shaking his head, because working up a frustration wouldn’t help anyone at the moment, Rung set his shoulders and got to work. Collecting his models and placing them back in their proper places was simple enough a task. He noted which ones would need some minor buffing or repairs and would tend to them later. 

Once that task was finished, he looked at the large, very heavy desk that had tipped over, then down at his own admittedly unimpressive arms. This might be a tad more difficult. 

His model was built for waging the delicate war of mind and voice, which was something he was good at, something he was both proud of and humbled by, by he couldn’t talk a desk back into an upright position. Most of the other bots were busy repairing the more damaged parts of the ship, their bulk and strength needed for the hull repairs. 

He supposed he could wait, an overturned desk was hardly a concern when hull-breaches were a possibility. But it nagged at him, at his need for order in a ruthlessly unpredictable life, so he ended up cleaning everything around the room, and then simply staring at the desk. Perhaps he could give it a try? 

Rung vented a short huff, and with a quick look around to make sure no one was there too see him embarrass himself. He knelt down and managed to wriggle his fingers under the edge, where the drawer kept it from being flush to the floor, and heaved upward. There was a brief sound of metal scraping metal, but Rung was pretty sure it had come from his shoulder sockets, because the desk sure as the pit hadn’t budged, and the sparking ache in his arms reminded him what a terrible idea this had been. 

Rung grunted softly and gave up, resting his helm against the edge of the desk, willing the sharp pains to fade faster. He hadn’t even realized his optics had offlined until the snapped back online as the thunk of something landing on the metal of the desk sent a vibration more felt than heard. 

Jumping, Rung saw a large hand resting beside the spot his helm had been. The hand was connected to an appropriately gigantic arm and chassis, and Rung found himself looking up into the softly glowing red of Fort Max’s optics. “Oh! Hello Fort Max, I was just, um…” 

“Losing a fight with this desk?” Fort Max smiled as Rung grinned slightly, not even bothering to argue the assessment, it was true after all. “Want some help, doc?” 

“Yes, thank you. But aren’t you needed with the others?” 

Fort Max looked away for a moment, his optics dimming before they brightened again and he shrugged. “They’re not exactly jumping at the chance to hand me a welder or a nail gun at the moment, so I figured I’d stay out of the way. At least I can be a little bit useful here.” 

Rung smiled and patted Fort Max reassuringly on the chassis, head tilted back because this close, with both of then kneeling, Rung still only came halfway up Fort Max’s chestplates. “Well, I do appreciate the help, and don’t worry, trust will be rebuilt. You have my trust, and everyone who matter will give you theirs in time as well.” 

Fort Max stared down at him, optics wide, before looking away and clearing his vocalizer. “Let’s, uh, let’s get this desk fixed for you, then your office can look good as new.” 

He easily tipped the desk back into place and stood, edging it so it was centered just so. Rung blinked, surprised at the sudden lack of closeness, then had to wonder at himself for noting it so keenly. Fort Max gave off a surprising amount of warmth, and Rung hadn’t really noticed until it was gone and suddenly he missed it. 

Rung got to his pedes calmly, carefully watching Fort Max who was pointedly not looking at him and ‘fixing’ the large chair by nudging it back and forth in place. Rung smiled and spread his hands, getting Fort Max’s attention while appearing as harmless as possible. “Since you’ve so kindly kept me from injuring myself, perhaps I we could take a walk down to Swerve’s bar before the crowds arrive?” 

Optics bright, Fort Max stared at Rung for a moment before smiling brightly. “Sounds like a plan to me.”


End file.
